


Until We Go Down

by crushermyheart08



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Blood and Injury, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Medical Trauma, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-21 01:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30013914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushermyheart08/pseuds/crushermyheart08
Summary: 'A groan, like some kind of wounded animal, reaches his ears. The fence will not hold forever. And there is no telling how long it will take for help to arrive.' A little re-write of S35 Ep4 focusing on Dylan and Faith, and the ambulance crash.
Relationships: Faith Cadogan/Dylan Keogh, Faith Cadogan/Lev Malinovsky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Secrets and Lies

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC Casualty or any of its characters. Just Dan the lorry driver :)
> 
> Rated T for injury detail and mild language.
> 
> A/N: Hello all! It's been about five or six years since I've written a Casualty fanfiction, and - ironically - it's another crash scenario. After watching the fourth episode of the latest series (35) my imagination completely ran away with me and I ended up writing this. I realise that the episode was re-written so they could film during lockdown, and they did a fantastic job, but my brain would not leave the idea of what else could have happened alone. So, here we are.
> 
> This isn't quite an alternative what-if story, but rather an expansion of the episode focusing on Dylan and Faith with additional dialogue and an alternative location, plus an extra character or two. Any dialogue taken from the episode has been re-written slightly. Also, I haven't watched any more episodes since writing so no spoilers please!
> 
> Anyway, enough from me. Please read and review if you have the time. I would love to know your thoughts! As always, enjoy x

An hour. That's how long they're going to have to wait. A whole sixty minutes of forced and awkward conversation with only the faint bustle of the main road and a slow train of socially distanced people moving in and out of St James' to keep them company.

Suppressing a sigh, Faith lets her gaze drift aimlessly in the opposite direction. Away from the hospital. Away from him. The sensation of weightlessness still clings to her bones, a faint pressure on the bridge of her nose. It feels good to be relieved of all the protective equipment, even if it is only for an hour or two.

"You know, I can drop you off if you like?"

Pravi, the young ambulance driver who had helped them with the patient transfer, smiles in the afternoon sun.

"I know I'm not supposed to," she continues in a conspirational tone, "but I won't tell if you won't. I'm on my break anyway."

Glancing at her companion, Faith considers the idea. It is - though out of the ordinary - extremely tempting. And it will save her the agony of waiting an hour for a taxi with a colleague who seems determined to avoid her unless interaction is absolutely necessary. Pravi's offer, she decides, is too good to resist.

"That would be really great," Faith replies gratefully. "Right, Dylan?"

"Oh." Dr Keogh looks up from his phone, blinks in response. "Yeah. Great."

"Okay. I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere."

Tucking her hands into her fleece pockets, Faith stares at the grey pavement beneath her plimsoles. As Pravi's footsteps fade, the hum of the city returns, and though it is not the sound of a city alive and bustling with people, it is a welcome hum compared to the barren wilderness the world had been only a few months ago.

On the adjacent pavement Dylan stands, waiting, as immovable as stone. Discomfort creeps into the air. There are no teasing comments to make, no witty or humorous remarks to exchange. Whatever friendly conversation there had previously been between them is now nothing more than a series of polite and rushed comments. He is not a man of many words, and those he chooses to speak aloud are bound to be abrupt and somewhat vague.

He is, she knows, disposed to be naturally unforthcoming, but his recent behaviour has not escaped her notice. Over the last few weeks he has become increasingly withdrawn and blunt. And that is, of course, no fault of his own.

Hunching her shoulders, Faith wills her gaze to stay trained on the pavement. His silence brims with expectation, and she wonders if he is simply waiting for her to say something.

"Can I do anything?" Dylan asks eventually.

The pain of the truth is raw in her mind, and yet still she feels the need to confide in him. He who has treated her with nothing but kindness and honesty.

"That depends." A feeble attempt at sarcasm. "Can you travel back in time and not see my husband with..."

_With a man_ , her mind echoes bitterly, but her tongue refuses to taste the words. The truth is impossible to comprehend. Ineffable. It had been so easy to effortlessly dismiss it, so certain had she been of its falsehood. And then the thoughts had come, fearful and terrifying, blooming from the seed of doubt that had been planted in her mind.

That _he_ had planted.

"I keep wondering if our whole marriage was a lie, you know?" Faith admits quietly. "If it meant anything at all? If he's ever... ever done it before?" Her eyes meet his, searching. "If every time we..."

A hard crease appears between his brows, his face set, motionless, and she can't quite tell if he's staring at her or through her.

"I'm sorry," she apologises, biting back the tumble of questions that neither of them can hope to answer. "You don't want to hear this."

"No, no," Dylan shakes his head, his features deepening a little. "You carry on. You have every right to be angry. Say whatever you like. Call him names. Damn him."

An uncomfortable silence. Her own anger is palpable, but so is his. And she cannot decipher if he is angry for her or angry at her. Or whether he is angry at himself.

A different, but equally challenging, question:

"Why did you tell me?"

"Because I'm your friend," Dylan replies.

Simple. Matter of fact.

"Just a friend?"

He looks, for a moment, startled. As if she had poked him with a pin or told him news of such staggering gravity as to render him speechless. Her question continues to sit there, in the space between them, exposed and unanswered. And there is no taking it back.

"You ready to go?"

Dylan starts as the young paramedic returns, pacing toward the ambulance at speed.

"Yes, um, thanks for offering to drop us off, Pravi," he stammers. "Very kind of you. Do you mind if I sit in the front with you? I get travel sick sometimes in the back. Terrible business."

Liar.

"Yeah, sure," Pravi grins as she opens the door, oblivious to his unease. "As long as you don't mind a stop off for some food on the way back. I'm starving."

He almost springs into the passenger seat, avoiding her knowing gaze. Opening the back door, Faith climbs in and resigns herself to a quiet journey back to Holby ED. She'd heard it in his stammer, seen it in the panicked blinking of his eyes: she'd struck a nerve, come too close to discovering his thoughts.

He'll tell her the truth eventually.

.x.

The road is long, never-ending in its monotony. He can almost see it through the backs of his eyelids, feel the shuddering of his seat as the tarmac rises and sinks beneath the hefty wheels. The heat of the summer sun is slowly dwindling, and a bank of dull grey cloud sits begrudgingly on the horizon.

His legs are stiff and aching for a stretch. A low rumble signals another missed lunch. He's drank more energy drinks in the last few hours than he cares to count.

"Oi, Dan, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Frank." He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, blinks back a wave of fatigue. "I'm listening."

"Once your shift is done I'm gonna need you to do another," Frank's voice shouts over the noise of the road, crackling through the phone line. "Colin's off work now and I ain't got no more men to do the hours. Once you've delivered this lot you head back here and then out to Manchester, alright?"

Manchester. Dan shrinks in his seat. Great.

"You've got two hours."

"It'll take me two hours just to get back!" Dan exclaims, frowning at the dashboard. "Look, Frank, I know things are tight an' I don't mind doing an extra shift, but I can't do the impossible."

"Two hours, mate," Frank replies as if he hasn't heard a word of opposition. "I'll see you at the docks."

The call ends abruptly. He stares at the long, never-ending road. With a flick of his wrist Dan turns the volume up on the radio, eager to drown out the frustration gnawing at his nerves. Anything to distract him from the insanity threatening to take root in his mind.

Shaking himself, arms outstretched, Dan blinks the sleep out of his eyes.

"One day," he mutters. "One day he'll listen to me."


	2. Downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC Casualty or any of its characters.
> 
> A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this fic so far! I forgot to mention before that each of the chapter titles are taken from songs by Ruelle. I wrote this fic listening to them, particularly Secrets and Lies, Bad Dream and War of Hearts. Hoping to post once a week from now on. I'm not quite sure how long this story is going to be (my brain keeps adding more!) but here is Chapter 2. As always, enjoy x

Through the opaque glass of the ambulance windows, the world passes by in a blissful blur, unhurried and uncomplicated. On occasion she has sat here, staring through the darkened glass without focus, dwelling on the uneasy. And though her perspective does not always change, and a conclusion does not always arrive, she is never afraid to confront her own thoughts.

She cannot, Faith realises, ignore the situation forever. But perhaps, on a quiet afternoon in the back of an ambulance, she can afford to forget for a little while.

The city roads morph into old buildings and unkempt woodlands. Potholes litter the road beneath. There are no cars to pass them by, nor the usual build-up of traffic to slow their journey. The lanes are abnormally quiet, and all she can hear is the rushing of blood in her ears and the low friction of rubber against tarmac. Eventually the scenery opens up to reveal a much pleasanter view: green fields and the winding river that runs toward the Estuary only a few miles south of Holby.

"Just taking a quick shortcut," Pravi calls over her shoulder. "It's only fifteen minutes out of the way. Won't be long."

"Okay," Faith calls back.

Her gaze settles on the opposite side of the ambulance, her feet swinging restlessly beneath the seat as she determinedly prises her drifting attention away from the man in the front passenger seat. The man she considers - or had once considered - to be her best friend. Hurting him had never been her intention, as he in turn had hurt her, and the memory of his expression upon receiving the full brunt of her anger is an image she may never be able to forget.

"What I wouldn't give for a traffic jam right now," Pravi is saying, mostly to herself. "Honestly, the roads have been so empty since Lockdown started. It's like we're living in some kind of post-apocalyptic universe. Like the Walking Dead or Survivors. Or something like that anyway," she mutters. "I mean, how many cars have we passed? Five? Six?"

"Uh, two, actually," Dylan replies.

Faith rolls her eyes inwardly. Of course he's been counting.

"Exactly," Pravi agrees good-naturedly. "You know, this place down here does the best burgers. And by the best I mean the best. Once you've had a Hildy's there's no going back." She groans in exasperation. "Gosh, I hope they haven't closed early. I missed breakfast. Didn't have time to grab anything before work."

Dylan grunts something in reply. Left uninterrupted, the paramedic seems determined to fill an entire journey with non-stop conversation without receiving a verbal response. It might have been irritating had Faith not welcomed the sound of another's voice filling the void between her own thoughts.

"I tell you, even a vegetarian couldn't turn their nose up at a Hildy's burger. Some of my veggie friends have actually been converted - and I'm talking proper long-time veggies here. My one friend, Jen, hadn't so much as looked at a chicken nugget for eight years, but as soon as she smelled a Hildy's... that was it. I swear it's whatever they put in their sauce. No way is it anything healthy." Pravi laughs. "You should try one! I promise you won't regret it. My treat."

"Oh. No." The apprehension in Dylan's tone is evident as he endeavours to back his way out. "No, thank you, Pravi. I, uh, I had quite a big breakfast."

"What about you, Faith? Fancy a burger?"

"No. No, I'm good, thanks."

Pravi tuts loudly.

"Oh man, I'm telling you, you're missing out here. Maybe next time, eh?"

"Maybe," Dylan grumbles. His hand appears at the open compartment window, and the memory of Pravi's laughter, the moment of light-hearted relief, is instantly forgotten. "If we're not wearing masks we should keep this shut."

He closes it with a finality that physically hurts. Like a punch to the stomach. A blow to the jaw. He is, she now realises, deliberately shutting her out.

For a while Faith stares at the hatch, unable to shake the impression that she should attempt to retrieve what little remains of their apparent friendship. She wonders how - _if_ \- she can break down the wall that has risen stiffly between them. Perhaps she has over-stepped the mark. Perhaps she has impressed her emotions, her feelings, her life on him once too often. Perhaps she has offended him with her honesty. Worst of all: perhaps she has taken him for granted.

Reaching into her pocket Faith pulls out her phone and searches for his name.

 ** _'I'm sorry, Dylan',_** she types slowly. Purposefully. **_'I don't want to lose you.'_**

Such simple and innocent words. And heavy with an indeterminable consequence. Her thumb hovers hesitantly over the send button.

 ** _'As a friend,'_** she adds quickly, echoing his earlier response.

The compartment window may be closed, but she can still hear the intermittent beeping of his phone as he receives her messages. She stares nervously at the screen, waiting with unfulfilled anticipation. One minute stretches into two with no reply. Then three.

Her heart begins to hammer. An unbearable awkwardness and uncertainty. Pressing a hand to her jaw, Faith feels the flurry of her pulse brush against her fingers. A familiar sensation she has experienced many times over the years: the fear of losing a friend.

Or is it fear of losing something more?

 ** _'Dylan?'_** she types anxiously. **_'Talk to me. Please?'_**

Another minute. The chances of ever receiving a reply dwindle significantly.

"Oh, no, come on! You've got to be kidding!" Pravi's voice pierces the quiet. The ambulance rolls to a stop. "There's me fantasising about a burger all morning. Should've known better." She sighs loudly. "Closed due to Covid. That's just my luck."

The rumble of the engine. Wheels moving in reverse. A low branch whips against the window with a loud thwack, but Faith's attention is absorbed by the screen held tightly between her hands.

**_'Please don't shut me out.'_ **

Three dots - the promise of a reply - wave in repetitive synchronisation. Over, and over again. He's seen her messages, and the idea that he is now purposefully ignoring her drives her to unclasp her seatbelt and reach for the compartment window.

She feels the impact before she hears it: the sudden rush of unexpected force that flings her across the back of the ambulance and into the adjacent wall. Bone cracks against metal. Breath rushes from her lungs. Outside: the burning squeal of tyres against tarmac. Pieces of equipment rise like a wave, suspended in mid-air before clattering down against the floor. Her body falls limp to the ground.

A sharp pain at the base of her skull. A sudden ebbing coldness. And fragments of glass that glitter in a growing darkness.


End file.
